77A: Sweet Williams Ghost

77A.1 THERE came a ghost to Margrets door,
With many a grievous groan,
And ay he tirled at the pin,
But answer made she none.
77A.2 Is that my father Philip,
Or ist my brother John?
Or ist my true-love, Willy,
From Scotland new come home?
77A.3 Tis not thy father Philip,
Nor yet thy brother John;
But tis thy true-love, Willy,
From Scotland new come home.
77A.4 O sweet Margret, O dear Margret,
I pray thee speak to me;
Give me my faith and troth, Margret,
As I gave it to thee.
77A.5 Thy faith and troth thous never get,
Nor yet will I thee lend,
Till that thou come within my bower,
And kiss my cheek and chin.
77A.6 If I shoud come within thy bower,
I am no earthly man;
And shoud I kiss thy rosy lips,
Thy days will not be lang.
77A.7 O sweet Margret, O dear Margret,
I pray thee speak to me;
Give me my faith and troth, Margret,
As I gave it to thee.
77A.8 Thy faith and troth thous never get,
Nor yet will I thee lend,
Till you take me to yon kirk,
And wed me with a ring.
77A.9 My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard,
Afar beyond the sea,
And it is but my spirit, Margret,
Thats now speaking to thee.
77A.10 She stretchd out her lilly-white hand,
And, for to do her best,
Hae, theres your faith and troth, Willy,
God send your soul good rest.
77A.11 Now she has kilted her robes of green
A piece below her knee,
And a the live-lang winter night
The dead corp followed she.
77A.12 Is there any room at your head, Willy?
Or any room at your feet?
Or any room at your side, Willy,
Wherein that I may creep?
77A.13 Theres no room at my head, Margret,
Theres no room at my feet;
Theres no room at my side, Margret,
My coffins made so meet.
77A.14 Then up and crew the red, red cock,
And up then crew the gray:
Tis time, tis time, my dear Margret,
That you were going away.
77A.15 No more the ghost to Margret said,
But, with a grievous groan,
Evanishd in a cloud of mist,
And left her all alone.
77A.16 O stay, my only true-love, stay,
The constant Margret cryd;
Wan grew her cheeks, she closd her een,
Stretchd her soft limbs, and dyd.

77B: Sweet Williams Ghost

77B.1 WHAN bells war rung, an mass was sung,
A wat a man to bed were gone,
Clark Sanders came to Margrets window,
With mony a sad sigh and groan.
77B.2 Are ye sleeping, Margret, he says,
Or are ye waking, presentlie?
Give me my faith and trouthe again,
A wat, trew-love, I gied to thee.
77B.3 Your faith and trouth yes never get,
Nor our trew love shall never twain,
Till ye come with me in my bower,
And kiss me both cheek and chin.
77B.4 My mouth it is full cold, Margret,
It has the smell now of the ground;
And if I kiss thy comely mouth,
Thy life-days will not be long.
77B.5 Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf,
I wat the wild fule boded day;
Gie me my faith and trouthe again,
And let me fare me on my way.
77B.6 Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get,
Nor our trew love shall never twin,
Till ye tell me what comes of women
Awat that dys in strong traveling.
77B.7 Their beds are made in the heavens high,
Down at the foot of our good Lords knee,
Well set about wi gilly-flowers,
A wat sweet company for to see.
77B.8 O cocks are crowing a merry midd-larf,
A wat the wilde foule boded day;
The salms of Heaven will be sung,
And ere now Ile be misst away.
77B.9 Up she has tain a bright long wand,
And she has straked her trouth thereon;
She has given [it] him out at the shot-window,
Wi many a sad sigh and heavy groan.
77B.10 I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret,
And I thank you hartilie;
Gine ever the dead come for the quick,
Be sure, Margret, Ill come again for thee.
77B.11 Its hose an shoon an gound alane
She clame the wall and followed him,
Untill she came to a green forest,
On this she lost the sight of him.
77B.12 Is their any room at your head, Sanders?
Is their any room at your feet?
Or any room at your twa sides?
Whare fain, fain woud I sleep.
77B.13 Their is na room at my head, Margret,
Their is na room at my feet;
There is room at my twa sides,
For ladys for to sleep.
77B.14 Cold meal is my covering owre,
But an my winding sheet;
My bed it is full low, I say,
Down among the hongerey worms I sleep.
77B.15 Cold meal is my covering owre,
But an my winding sheet;
The dew it falls na sooner down
Then ay it is full weet.

77C: Sweet Williams Ghost

77C.1 LADY MARJORIE, Lady Marjorie,
Sat sewing her silken seam;
By her came a pale, pale ghost,
With many a sich and mane.
77C.2 Are ye my father, the king? she says,
Or are ye my brother John?
Or are you my true-love, Sweet William,
From England newly come?
77C.3 Im not your father, the king, he says,
No, no, nor your brother John;
But Im your true love, Sweet William,
From England thats newly come.
77C.4 Have ye brought me any scarlets so red?
Or any silks so fine?
Or have ye brought me any precious things,
That merchants have for sale?
77C.5 I have not brought you any scarlets sae red,
No, no, nor the silks so fine;
But I have brought you my winding-sheet,
Oer manys the rock and hill.
77C.6 O Lady Marjory, Lady Marjory,
For faith and charitie,
Will you give to me my faith and troth,
That I gave once to thee?
77C.7 O your faith and troth Ill not give thee,
No, no, that will not I,
Until I get one kiss of your ruby lips,
And in my arms you come [lye].
77C.8 My lips they are so bitter, he says,
My breath it is so strong,
If you get one kiss of my ruby lips,
Your days will not be long.
77C.9 The cocks they are crowing, Marjory, he says,
The cocks they are crawing again;
Its time the deid should part the quick,
Marjorie, I must be gane.
77C.10 She followed him high, she followed him low,
Till she came to yon church-yard;
O there the grave did open up,
And young William he lay down.
77C.11 What three things are these, Sweet William, she says,
That stands here at your head?
Its three maidens, Marjorie, he says,
That I promised once to wed.
77C.12 What three things are these, Sweet William, she says,
That stands here at your side?
It is three babes, Marjorie, he says,
That these three maidens had.
77C.13 What three things are these, Sweet William, she says,
That stands here at your feet?
It is three hell-hounds, Marjorie, he says,
Thats waiting my soul to keep.
77C.14 She took up her white, white hand,
And she struck him in the breast,
Saying, Have there again your faith and troth,
And I wish your soul good rest.

77D: Sweet Williams Ghost

77D.1 LADY MARGARET was in her wearie room,
Sewin her silken seam,
And in cam Willie, her true-love,
Frae Lundin new come hame.
77D.2 O are ye my father Philip,
Or are ye my brither John?
Or are ye my true-love, Willie,
Frae London new come home?
77D.3 Im nae your father Philip,
Nor am I your brother John;
But I am your true-love, Willie,
An Im nae a levin man.
77D.4 But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat,
An let me pass on my way;
For the bells o heaven will be rung,
An Ill be mist away.
77D.5 Yere faith and troth yese never get,
Till ye tell me this ane;
Till ye tell me where the women go
That hang themsell for sin.
77D.6 O they gang till the low, low hell,
Just by the devils knee;
Its a clad ower wi burnin pitch,
A dreadfu sicht to see.
77D.7 But your faith and troth yese never get,
Till you tell me again;
Till you tell me where the children go
That die without a name.
77D.8 O they gang till the high, high heaven,
Just by our Saviours knee,
An its a clad ower wi roses red,
A lovelie sicht to see.
77D.9 But gie me my faith and troth, Margrat,
And let me pass on my way;
For the psalms o heaven will be sung,
An Ill be mist away.
77D.10 But your faith and troth yese never get
Till ye tell me again;
Till ye tell me where the women go
That die in child-beddin.
77D.11 O they gang till the hie, hie heaven,
Just by our Saviours knee,
And every day at twal o clock
Theyre dipped oer the head.
77D.12 But gie me my faith and troth, Margret,
And let me pass on my way;
For the gates o heaven will be shut,
And Ill be mist away.
77D.13 Then she has taen a silver key,
Gien him three times on the breast;
Says, Theres your faith and troth, Willie,
I hope your soul will rest.
77D.14 But is there room at your head, Willie?
Or is there room at your feet?
Or is there room at any o your sides,
To let in a lover sweet?
77D.15 There is nae room at my head, Margrat,
Theres nae room at my feet,
But there is room at baith my sides,
To lat in a lover sweet.

77E: Sweet Williams Ghost

77E.1 AS May Margret sat in her bouerie,
In her bouer all alone,
At the very parting o midnicht
She heard a mournfu moan.
77E.2 O is it my father? O is it my mother?
Or is it my brother John?
Or is it Sweet William, my ain true-love,
To Scotland new come home?
77E.3 It is na your father, it is na your mother,
It is na your brother John;
But it is Sweet William, your ain true-love,
To Scotland new come home.
77E.4 Hae ye brought me onie fine things,
Onie new thing for to wear?
Or hae ye brought me a braid o lace,
To snood up my gowden hair?
77E.5 Ive brought ye na fine things at all,
Nor onie new thing to wear,
Nor hae I brought ye a braid of lace,
To snood up your gowden hair.
77E.6 But Margaret, dear Margaret,
I pray ye speak to me;
O gie me back my faith and troth,
As dear as I gied it thee.
77E.7 Your faith and troth ye sanna get,
Nor will I wi ye twin,
Till ye come within my bouer,
And kiss me, cheek and chin.
77E.8 O should I come within your bouer,
I am na earthly man;
If I should kiss your red, red lips,
Your days wad na be lang.
77E.9 O Margaret, dear Margaret,
I pray ye speak to me;
O gie me back my faith and troth,
As dear as I gied it thee.
77E.10 Your faith and troth ye sanna get,
Nor will I wi ye twin,
Till ye tak me to yonder kirk,
And wed me wi a ring.
77E.11 My banes are buried in yon kirk-yard,
Its far ayont the sea;
And it is my spirit, Margaret,
Thats speaking unto thee.
77E.12 Your faith and troth ye sanna get,
Nor will I twin wi thee,
Till ye tell me the pleasures o heaven,
And pains of hell how they be.
77E.13 The pleasures of heaven I wat not of,
But the pains of hell I dree;
There some are hie hangd for huring,
And some for adulterie.
77E.14 Then Margret took her milk-white hand,
And smoothd it on his breast:
Tak your faith and troth, William,
God send your soul good rest!

77F: Sweet Williams Ghost

77F.1 WHEN seven years were come and gane,
Lady Margaret she thought lang;
And she is up to the hichest tower,
By the lee licht o the moon.
77F.2 She was lookin oer her castle high,
To see what she might fa,
And there she saw a grieved ghost,
Comin waukin oer the wa.
77F.3 O are ye a man of mean, she says,
Seekin ony o my meat?
Or are you a rank robber,
Come in my bower to break?
77F.4 O Im Clerk Saunders, your true-love,
Behold, Margaret, and see,
And mind, for a your meikle pride,
Sae will become of thee.
77F.5 Gin ye be Clerk Saunders, my true-love,
This meikle marvels me;
O wherein is your bonny arms,
That wont to embrace me?
77F.6 By worms theyre eaten, in mools theyre rotten,
Behold, Margaret, and see,
And mind, for a your mickle pride,
Sae will become o thee.
* * * * *
* * * * *
77F.7 O, bonny, bonny sang the bird,
Sat on the coil o hay;
But dowie, dowie was the maid
That followd the corpse o clay.
77F.8 Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?
Is there ony room at your feet?
Is there ony room at your twa sides,
For a lady to lie and sleep?
77F.9 There is nae room at my head, Margaret,
As little at my feet;
There is nae room at my twa sides,
For a lady to lie and sleep.
77F.10 But gae hame, gae hame now, May Margaret,
Gae hame and sew your seam;
For if ye were laid in your weel made bed,
Your days will nae be lang.

77G: Sweet Williams Ghost

* * * *
77G.1 BUT plait a wand o bonny birk,
And lay it on my breast,
And shed a tear upon my grave,
And wish my saul gude rest.
77G.2 And fair Margret, and rare Margret,
And Margret o veritie,
Gin eer ye love another man,
Neer love him as ye did me.
77G.3 Then up and crew the milk-white cock,
And up and crew the grey;
The lover vanishd in the air,
And she gaed weeping away.